Copper
by RunRoseRiddle
Summary: What if Jump City Police Department had taken an interest in the Titan's activities after the Beast incident? A series of vignettes focusing on the interaction between a particular policeman and (primarily) Beastboy. Implied pairing abound, from an outsider's perspective.
1. The Initial Encounter

It wasn't really that surprising; building interiors in smoking shambles, roads torn to shreds and lampposts in disarray, to say nothing of the unreasonable number of witnesses and video evidence. Of course pursuit of a villain was one thing, fights between friends, another, but for a brawl to have tumbled into the city itself, where it had been readily obvious to even the most thickheaded fool that there was some sort of in-fighting occurring between the heroes? Youtube alone had enough material to run a minor documentary on the event, and that was to say nothing of the social media sphere: the tabloids had already begun an almost slanderous campaign of misinformation and deceit, and the only reason the Constable hadn't arrested the publication houses was because he was a fool that consistently stated that something wasn't libel if it held true, and the Chief was too busy trying to pacify the vocal minority that wanted the Titans under house arrest.

 **'Laws exist for a reason, and everyone has to be held accountable.' So the Constable said. So began another fiasco. Only reaction was a grimace, a frown. Left with a silent ball of hatred twisting around in the belly hours later, even as the boat slowed down to dock. Each step leaden. One leg actually is, a bit. Story for another day. Just another young and stupid kid making another stupid mistake; arresting hurt more than extraction. Nearly Two Decades later. Still married to the job, Juvenile Services. It was supposed to make a difference. Stop kids from making bad decisions. Now punishing young heroes. Figures.**

At least he had stopped SWAT from being called in; god knows the damages that would've been done, the rumors that would've started. More and more oil upon the inferno that had already been conjured forth; someone, probably someone young, could've been injured or worse. What in the world had they been thinking? A squad wouldn't have been enough to arrest someone from this team, but perhaps a single person could succeed where a show of might would clearly fail. Still, the Constable was going to be livid when he found that he had been skipped over.

 **A small smile on a scarred face. A memory that'd warm him for days despite the hell his job would swiftly become. Remembering the job before dedicated heroes appeared hurts. Little reason to remember those nightmarish times. Men against monsters. Monsters victorious. Then more men against the same monster. Drowning it in bodies. Victory more painful than defeat. Bad days.** ** _Bad_** **days. Now just lesser monsters and men. Still some nightmares. Moments where the hand shakily pours out libations for friends. Only the young could want the old days back. Knock against the metal. Forget the sadness and loss. Get out of the wet and cold. Focus on the job.**

"Why in the world do they live so conspicuously?" Inspector Grant grunts under his breath, taking his hand away from the door and placing it under his armpit in the vain attempt at keeping it warm. "And getting something from the city'd be a hassle," he murmurs to himself, more to distract himself from the fact he could already feel a chill running down his spine; whether it was from the rain or some sort of instinct, however, he can hardly tell.

 **Don't answer the door. Don't. Be saving the city. Nurturing kittens. Cooking. Something productive. Don't let me further this miscarriage of justice. Be asleep. Please. Wait. Was that an explosion?**

With not even the barest whisper of a creak, the door slid open a crack and a red-head with green eyes peeked through the opening. For the longest moment, Titan and Inspector simply stared at each other, uncertain of what needed to be said to move the situation forward.

 **Wasn't at scene? Don't remember her there much. The Alien. Flings plasma. Super strong. Capable of flight. Has sligh** **tly burnt hair as well. Singed face. Wait. That's not normal. That's not normal** ** _at all_** **.**

"Are you not supposed to be doing the selling of something?" the Red-Head finally asks, as the Inspector simply stared on in bewilderment. "You are the door to door man of selling, yes? It is commendable to doing your job in this weather, but I do not see how this is improving matters much." Another moment passed in silence as the Inspector tried to decode what on earth had just been said to him, before Starfire, in a sympathetic tone, asked, "Are you a Bow of Hoes? Are you in need of a drying instrument?"

 **Calm down. Collect. Did she just say hobo? Probably. I look like a hobo? Focus! Is there something I'm missing? Or is she just impossibly naïve? Or improbably perceptive? Put on your hat.**

For just a moment, Inspector Grant's eyes glanced at his stitched-up coat, threadbare hat, and undeniably scuffed and muddied dark-blue shirt, before he finally managed to reply with, "Uhm," and place his hat back on.

 **Smooth as Ex-Lax. Idiot. Not that it matters much. Gods above, but she's strong. Am I hearing Video games? What's that whirring? Oh hells. There's th** **e perp right that. Right next to the jolly blue giant. Except not so jolly. Losing? Focus. Lead into this carefully. Wait. She's saying something. Gathering them? Focus. Holy hell, that's dark. Wait. Why does the grey one have a Bindi? Doesn't that mean she's married? Or something? Hindu derived, regardless. Wait. There's the leader. Probably. Hopefully. Focus.** ** _Listen_** **.**

"—and that's why Mr. Bow of House Hoe is here," Starfire said, beaming at her friends, even as the Inspector raised an eyebrow in befuddlement; the reaction was not alone, however, as five human(ish?) eyes affixed him to the spot.

 **At least one just seems bored.**

"Erm," Inspector Grant finally managed, after clearing his throat. He spent a moment opening his wallet and flipping it open to his badge before continuing, "I'm afraid I'm not quite what you think I am. I actually needed to talk to-" **Green one's name? Beast something. Beast lad? No. Boy.** "—Beast Boy for a moment. It's, uh, job related. Nothing serious, just needed to get some information if possible."

 **They will tear me limb from limb if he spends more than twenty four hours in custody. Metaphorically speaking. Probably. That's a hell of a glare the grey one is sporting. Well then. Time to either gamble big or go home.**

"It is, of course, merely a request," the Inspector murmured after a moment, "and if problems should arise that requires your team, he will, of course, be free to leave. It is, again, merely a requested visit, something that we _want_ but don't necessarily _need_."

 **Ah. Haven't felt this since the old days. Same gut-wrenching worry that someone with super strength will haul off with a tire-iron and disembowel a buddy. Or me. And that glare looks like it's capable of murder. Wait. All of the glares look like they're able to do that. Except the Perp. Confused? Figures. Think. Is that pizza on the counter? Focus. Wait. Teenagers. Perhaps greed will work? God damn. That smell is unholy. Is that tofu?**

"Since this job is working in tandem with the police department," he felt his mouth saying before he could run the words through his brain, "There will, of course, be compensation for your time. Of the financial variety, in all likelihood."

 **There goes any chance of a bonus. And perhaps the job. Perhaps. If a conviction happens. Which won't. Too much heroism inspires votes of non-guilt. Why are we bothering with this fiasco? Oh. Everyone seems to be backing down. Except the Grey one. She looks livid. Delightful. Now I may have another lifetime enemy. I shall make room on my board. And invest in another bear-trap. Can't be too careful. Oh. Green one is ready to go. Time to leave. Oh. Grey one is gesturing at paper. My name? My name. There.**

"You ready to go?" Inspector Grant asked Beast Boy, some concern leaking into his voice as he set the pen to the side; it was clear he took issue with the teen simply leaving the house in only his Titan uniform. A moment passed as Beast Boy glanced down at himself, grinned, and shifted into a bear; lazily, he trudged over to the boat and curled into a ball of fur.

 **I forgot to use a pseudonym instead. So much for 'Ethel Snake'. Well shit. If I get hexed I'm killing Jerry. Why is there a green bear? Oh. Hero boy. Changes into animals. Glad I remembered. This job alone is taking years off my life. Still. At least he'll be warm on the trip there. This better not become a recurring theme, though.**


	2. Second Meeting

Stacked across the table in a number of desperately organized piles were a number of signed papers concerning the delegation of particular tasks related to Juvenile Services; in the occasional breeze, the piles' edges would flutter not unlike a trimmed shrub might before finally settling down. Of course, while these pale hedge-plants dominated the vast majority of the oaken desk, rogue horoscopes from various pulp magazines draped the ends of the counter like a canopy of inked leaves.

 **Full moon tonight. Magazines say increased crime. Experiences say that's a load of hogwash. Aries. Magazines also say I think everything is going well. Astrology. Hah. Yet another reason to doubt the stars. Night approaches. Go home. Sleep. Prepare for yet another day. At least I now have a nuclear option to deal with Jerry. Thanks 'Madam Agrippa'. Get up. Clock out. Leave. Get to car. Wait.**

"Blood Samples," the Inspector groaned to himself, as he killed the ignition and massaged his forehead.

 **Stupid mistake. At least it's not life-threatening. Make sure lab got them. No telling what Jerry might do if everything isn't perfectly done. Walking on enough eggshells as is. Huh. That's a lot of people. Interrogation? Or just 'cooking' a Perp? Wait a second. Damn straight you've got work to do, Thompson. Stop looking at me with goldfish eyes. Don't you all have better things to do? What the hell is Greg doing here? Isn't he Arson? Focus.**

"It's a police station, not a movie theater," Inspector Grant grunted at the few remaining plain-suits and beat-cops remaining, before glancing through the one way mirror, freezing momentarily as he recognized the green individual on the opposite side, and sardonically adding , "Or a zoo. Greg, what the hell do you think you're doing, grilling the adolescent? As for the rest of you, you've got jobs, don't you?"

 **Short visit. Long talk. Hadn't wanted to stay long. Obviously. Charges couldn't stick. Wouldn't stick. Grand jury didn't think prosecution was viable, either. Not one from here at least. Thankfully. Simple explanation. Don't do the Beast thing unless you want trouble. Seemed uneasy at idea. Did he ignore what I said? Unlikely. Loss of control? Blood samples. Shit. Casualties?**

"I'm just following up on what I was told to," Greg replied, the weariness evident in his voice and eyes. "Normally O'Riley would be handling this nonsense, but his wife's pregnant, and, well, you know. A man's gotta have his priorities, and he's made his clear for weeks." Greg paused for a moment to glance at the Titan within the room, grunt, and add, "Besides, I've only been grilling him for a few hours; pretty sure Jerry's just got a wild hair up his ass."

 **Greg's too calm for this to be about the Werebeast. What else could cause this attention? Green looks bored out of his mind. Can't blame him. Seemed hyperactive when we talked. Everyone is too bored for this to make sense. Probably zero casualties. Why, then?**

"A few hours? For what?" the Inspector ask after a moment. Pulsing irregularly above one of his eyes, a vein was becoming more and more prominent against his rapidly reddening face; a careful observer might've noticed how the Inspector's breathing had changed, had become deeper and more controlled. More repressed. More irate.

 **Too short to have been anything serious. Too long to not be a message. Or a hint. Reeks of politics. This isn't right. The** ** _nerve_** **. How** ** _dare_** **they? Calm down. Calm. No point in flipping your lid here. Complications are the last thing needed right now. Simmer down. Breathe.**

"Just simple vandalism. Evidently burst through a wall as a gorilla to nab a bad guy; who am I to judge, though, right? Personally, I'd have just let it go, but Jerry insisted. So, well, six hours later, and here we are," Greg replied, oblivious to the Inspector's rising temper.

 **Six hours? Locked up in a room because someone wants to make a statement? Calm down. I might strangle Jerry. Pretty sure there's a law relating to damages in pursuits of super criminals. What** ** _possible_** **reason could there be for this? Wait. Put shape-shifter with primal issues in cage. One noted for being hyperactive. One who just glanced at his communicator? The left him his super communicator? Focus. Then left him alone to simmer. What if he got a call? Going through the wall? Oh. Oh** ** _no_** **. Instigation? Was this intentional? Calm down. Calm—**

"You're working for a fucking savage, you realize that?" the Investigator said with cordiality discordant with his expression and body language. "Tell our majestic Constable that this charade has gone on long enough," he added, as he leaned against the door.

- **go ahead and cut loose. Works out about the same.**

"What do you want me to tell him if he bothers coming around?" Greg replied, a small smirk tugging at his mouth. "I mean, sure, it's pretty damned unlikely since it's _him_ , but still. . ."

 **Calm down. Greg isn't to blame for this. Not entirely. Calm down. Focus. Hint at your hand, don't give it away freely. Need to be quoted. Oh. Recorder might work. Think carefully. Red button? Correct. Calm down. Good. Focus. Now finish with this garbage and go home.**

"-and while I don't _foresee_ many more potential issues, rest assured that if I even think there's a bit of trickery going on it will be the biggest _mystic_ , sorry, ' _mistake'_ , of one's employed life if, uh, this rabbit hole is explored any further," the Inspector finally muttered into the recorder, before, almost reluctantly, stopping the recording and handing it to Greg. "Just give that to him if he has any questions; I'm pretty sure he'll understand."

 **Calling him 'Mr. Agrippa' in the beginning probably made it too obvious. Well. Nothing for it. Still felt good. Why's Greg smirking like that? Oh hells. How long has the door been open? The green kid probably heard everything. Wait. Vacant stare with bored expression. Perhaps he didn't listen? Could anyone be that oblivious? Wait. Yes. Well then.**

"Come on, get outta there. It's getting dark, let's get you home already," Inspector Grant finally muttered. "Your friends are probably worried."

 **That's one hell of a vacuous stare. Stares right into your unsuspecting soul. Or maybe that's just kids in general. Too young to really lie. Well. Too young to lie and believe it. Why's he still following me? Can't he get home himself? Oh. Wait. I suppose I said I'd take him. Why does he look like his puppy just died? It's depressing to look at. And green. Mostly depressing though. Unlock the door. Smile or something. Key in the ignition. Turn it. Reverse. Leave. Seriously? I'm not driving back in silence. Say something. Do something. Jeez. Fine.**

"So. . ." the Inspector finally said awkwardly, turning the already mute radio off, "You can turn into animals, huh?"

 **Tension worse than a teacher having The Talk with a random student. Don't look at me like that. Did I sprout a second head or something? Jeez.**

"How badly did I mess up?"

 **Huh?**

"I mean, uh . . . do the police no longer trust me? Is this going to happen again? I, I can't hold back my friends, you know? I mean, am even going to be able to stay a Titan if I keep ending up in the police station? I can't be a Titan anymore, can I? I mean, what if they got in trouble and needed me? I'd have to go through the wall, probably. Then I'd be a criminal. Man, what would the Doom Patrol say?" Beast Boy rambled, the words melting together in a maelstrom of worry, even as the Inspector's only reply was a bemused and somewhat worried silence.

 **Holy hell. It's a genuine angst spiral. With absolute obliviousness to everything I just said. Huh. I always figured kids were supposed to have these sorts of things because they started growing hair in funny places. Or because they started liking girls. Not because of genuine worries. Heroes, huh? Focus. Jeez. Well then. Only one thing for it.**

"Well, uh," the Inspector finally said, cutting off the green Teen mid-ramble, "do you regret the, uh, whole incident?"

 **That's good. Let him off with a warning. Just like last time. Just make up something about everyone making mistakes when he says yes. That'll wo-**

"Not really."

 **What.**

"I mean," Beast Boy said, as he felt the Inspector's gaze from the rear-view mirror, "uh, if I hadn't, one of my friends might've, uh, you know . . ." He trailed off, clearly not wishing to go down that morbid trail of thought.

 **Small pause at the word 'friend'. Really a friend? Or Worry? Hmm. Go figure. This Beast thing is strange. Manifestation of primal state? Actualization of instinctual mind? Focus. Well then. Different tactic. Wait. What's another tactic?**

"Huh," the Inspector grunted as they rounded a curb, stalling for time before he finally thought to add, "It's all going to be fine. Just, uh, come in for a weekly blood test for us to make sure you're alright, you know, not going feral or something. And, uh, if anybody tries to put you in a cell or a room again, just tell him that Inspector Grant is keeping an eye on this case . . . situation . . . thing."

 **Not smooth at all. Still. Got message across. Probably. It's too late for this nonsense. Coffee? Coffee.**

"Sweet! But, uh, who's Inspector Grant?"

 **There's no way. Nobody can be that oblivious. Seriously? I took you in only a few days ago! You're kidding. Right? Kids. It's too late for this shit. Why would you even get in the car of someone you don't even . . . Coffee. Now. Please. Perhaps a bit too strong on the brakes. To hell with it. I need something to wake me up. Focus. God** ** _damn_** **it.**

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A/N: Just wanted to thank everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed. Means a lot to me, you know? So . . . yeah. Thanks a bunch!


	3. Third Meeting

**Don't they look rather grumpy? Grey one in particular. At least Green is up and ready. I think. Wait. Is he asleep? Seriously? It's eight in the morning. And how is he keeping balanced? Well then. Oh. The one with the mask looks like he might burst a blood vessel. What's all this about? Kids. I swear. Still. Focus.**

"Am I right in guessing you were the one who gave Beast Boy coffee last week?" Robin finally asked, having to pause a few times before he could finally compose himself to simply speak. The strain in his voice was clear, even if he masterfully prevented it from showing on his face.

 **Oh. Um. Wait. That was last week. Why would they still be upset over something like that? Huh. Oh. Bruises? Never really noticed wounds on them the first time. Starstruck? Unlikely. Still. Useful to note. Oh. Here comes Grey. Is that a tome under her arm? Hope it's not magic. Magic sucks. Focus. Oh my. She's** ** _very_** **grumpy. Um. Personal space? Please? Okay. Uh. Take a step back. Distance? Err. . .**

"Never," Raven dictated, her voice as cold and foreboding as an approaching blizzard, utterly oblivious to Robin's and Cyborg's almost desperate hand-signals to stop or at least change her tone, "again."

 **Darker shadows? Oh god. Magic.** ** _Magic._** **Officer Foucault. Old days. Bad Days. Limbs twisted off like fucking cherry stems. Blood. Why was there so little? OiT. Officer in Trouble. Why? Barely a Lieutenant. Expecting sparkles and showmanship. Foucault. Mick. What happened? Darkness. The Deep Voice. Being pulled off a body. Looked like hamburger. Broken knuckles. Bone chips buried so deep in asphalt they had to re-layer it. The Magician? What happened? Demotion. The room. The frowns. The** ** _judging_** **. To the last. What did they tell me? Blank. Why? Still, sympathy. Still have job. Still have the Badge. What did they remove? Why? No. Ribs ache. Why were ribs transplanted with** ** _metal?_** **Wait. Why'd she take a step back? Do I look livid? No. Face is still composed. Focus. Calm down. Focus. Now is not the time to wake the Deep Voice. The Bad Days are over. Partially due to people like her. Calm. Peace. Even if she. . . No. Focus. Calm. Good.**

"I'll make sure he doesn't get a cuppa, in that case. Thanks for letting me know," Inspector Grant murmured, his voice absolutely neutral as he eyed all nearby spots of darkness warily. Perhaps a second passed before he awkwardly reached out to grab Beast Boy's shoulder; there was a moment of hesitation as the Inspector noted the reflexive, almost protective, twitch from Raven, but the moment swiftly passed as he guided the semi-conscious Beast Boy into his car, nodded once more the assembled Titans in farewell, and drove away.

 **Why did she look at me like that? Especially** ** _after_** **her little moment? Huh. Magic users. What can you say? Start off with noble intentions. End up scrubbing bloodstains out of concrete and worshipping Cthulhu. And that's the ones who** ** _aren't_** **gifted. Ones who can actually cast spells without week long rituals? Light-poles with biological hazard signs surrounding them. Buildings where the stone looks like interlocking finger bones.** ** _Are_** **interlocking finger bones. Things with** **too many eyes roaming the streets in search of Enlightenment. Missing orphans. Urgh. Oh. Bump. Should've gone slower. Still. Oh. Go figure. That woke him up. Huh. Less worried than I would've expected. Must be getting used to the interior of the cruiser. That's more depressing to think about than I care to admit.**

"Is it already Sunday?" Beast Boy murmured in askance, trying to turn his face away from the light peeking through the windows but failing miserably. "It is, isn't it?"

 **You think? Might be a good idea to invest in a calendar. Or something.**

"Yep. And lemme tell you, it looked like the happiest assembly ever," the Inspector replied with cheerful sarcasm as he rounded a corner. "If I ever take a life of crime, remind me not to start on an early Sunday. I suspect they would've torn my . . . would've dribbled me to prison," he added more somberly a moment later, only pausing to inject a far less grim assessment of the situation after examining his passenger's surprise.

 **Especially Grey. Though Blue and Multicolor would've probably raced her for the chance. It's far too early to be without Coffee. Orange seemed cheerful enough. Maybe. I can't tell with her. Focus. Kids. Really? Stop shifting all over the place. Seatbelts are supposed to keep you safe. Stop fighting it. Stop. STOP IT. Ow.**

"You got me for a moment," Beast Boy yawned, stretching as he slowly woke himself out of his stupor. "Bet Raven was happy to get me out of her hair for a change, though."

 **Raven? What the hell does a bird have to do with thi—wait. Teammate. Oh gods. Is he talking about the doom and gloom one? Grey? God. I really need to study the newspaper more. Wait. Wasn't there another bird one? Focus. Huh. Still seems out of it.**

"Not really," the Inspector said in reply. "Maybe a bit angry about the coffee, but that's about it. Seemed more worried than anything else. And a bit edgy about the entire situation, to be honest. And please stop tugging at your seatbelt; it's designed to save your life in case of an accident or sudden stop or, uh, something else like that."

 **Maybe she just figured that** ** _intimidating_** **an** ** _officer of the law_** **was a terrible idea. Huh. He's a lot more awake than he was a moment ago. Strange.** ** _That_** **got his attention? Huh. Interesting. Wonder why?**

"Dude, _what_? She's _still_ upset about that?" Beast Boy whined. "I already apologized and everything! It was a week ago!"

 **Stole the words from my mouth.**

"Oh, no. She seemed, uh, a touch upset with _me_ , you see," the Inspector replied, seeming more than a little embarrassed. "She, uh, still let it drop relatively quickly, though. Which, admittedly, was nice."

 **Oh. Great. He's looking at me like I've just mutated in front of him. What in the world could it be that inspired** ** _this_** **particular glance?**

"Raven _dropped_ the issue?" Beast Boy asked, his voice tinged with awe. "She almost _never_ does that. Wowzers."

 **What?**

"Why's that?" the Inspector asked, an eyebrow cocked in askance as he started pulling the vehicle into the police-station's parking lot.

 **Why do I suspect the news isn't going to be to my enjoyment?**

"She just knows how to get a rise out of people, you know? Probably has to do with her being an Empath or something," Beast Boy replied blithely.

 **Oh god. Uh. Perhaps I slammed on the brakes too harshly. Good thing you wore your seatbelt, eh, Green? Wait. Empath. Shit. Does that mean . . . Oh hells. Wait. Empath doesn't mean Telepathy. Maybe. Probably didn't notice anything besides rage and terror. Not much of a relief but still something. Shit. Is that why she reacted when I reached towards Green? Damn. Still. Calm. Peace. Probably didn't do much more than ping on her emotional radar. Probably. Uh. Check on Green. Get out. Back seat. Good. Just a bit winded. Thank goodness.**

"Sorry about that," the Inspector muttered as he half helped, half dragged the green teenager out of the seat and into the station. "Bit of a shock to realize your emotions are on clear display for all the world, you know? Uh. Yeah. Let's get your blood-test done with and get you back home, eh?"

 **Before I step on any more toes.**

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A/N: Thanks for the continued support, folks. And Ifeelblah? Good theory.


	4. The Intermittent Instance

First was Fear, cold and sickly but filled to bursting with its own inexorable power. Then, riding the emotional tides that Fear had sent out, Rage bloomed, dulled by _something_ but still sharp and brutal, like a Butcher's life-long cleaver. Like parasitic leeches, Self-loathing, Disgust, and relentless Sorrow quickly fell in pursuit of the two primary emotional reactions; they swelled with a disturbing, almost practiced ease, but ultimately failed to overshadow their parent emotions. Then, simultaneously, all the various emotions fell upon one another, consuming one another whilst being devoured themselves; for those with the ability to see this brutal feeding frenzy, it was a gruesome display: fragments of emotional residue splattering away from the conflict only served to fuel feelings of Confusion, Despair, and _whatever_ invisible _thing_ was dulling the Rage. It was with an internal shudder that Raven intentional shifted her Empathetic gaze to the far more joyous (albeit sleepy) Beast Boy and instead spared a material glance at both the Inspector's carefully blank expression and Beast Boy's drowsy countenance; regardless of what Beast Boy and, after a minor background check, Robin might've said, something wasn't right with the policeman.

That said, perhaps she had overreacted when the Inspector had started to lean towards Beast Boy; she had found herself leaning forward, preparing for a conflict, before realizing how painfully awkward the entire situation had become simply for the sake of some hunch she had. Perhaps her upcoming birthday was weighing more heavily on her than she had anticipated? Probably; it _was_ going to be the end of the world, after all.

 ** _This one, at least_** , she thought to herself darkly, even as the attempt at a hopeful qualifier only added to the ball of sickness she felt deep within her stomach. This wasn't the first time she had terrorized another living being, not by a large margin; Dr. Light came to mind as merely the most prominent example in a veritable laundry list of villains. It was, however, the first time someone ( ** _At least, someone over the age of six_** , she pondered, depressed) had such a negative emotional reaction without even gazing upon her demonic form, or some magical facsimile thereof.

 ** _Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos_**.

Like an reflex, she found herself mentally droning her most common phrase and contemplating the tranquility of otherworldly Azarath; not necessarily due to any sort of childish fondness for her time there, but rather simply because of how _silent_ and _peaceful_ that realm could be. In those moments where she was particularly reminded of Trigon's inevitable and inescapably approaching arrival, it helped to think of home. About how, despite how desolate a place may seem, life always finds a way; it really was one of the greatest act of defiance one could perform against her Father. Something, somewhere, endures.

 ** _Perhaps some fauna may survive his arrival_** , she noted morbidly, as she turned away from the rapidly departing cruiser and started towards the Tower purposefully. Already, if the mounting pressure in her head were any indication, she had some meditation to catch up on, as well as some books to read; the temptation she had to start on a list of lifeforms that could endure a Greater Demon's unchained power was only quashed after a few moments of serious contemplation, as she realized that Beast Boy's sole survival in such a hellish environment might well be a crueler fate than death itself.

"Hold up, Raven," Robin said, his tone professionally even despite his emotions hinting towards mild Irritation and significant Befuddlement, even as undercurrents of Worry made themselves known. "We need to have a quick talk. Cyborg, Star, we'll meet you guys back up at the Tower."

"Aight, man. I'll get the game station started up; you and I have a score to settle from last week," Cyborg said cheerfully, even as Raven noted the Uneasy and Compassion emanating from both he and Starfire; it was so thick that it actually _stuck_ in the air for a few moments after they had already left.

"What's going on? You're acting almost. . . jumpy. Did something come up that we need to know about? And why'd you act that way when he was going for Beast Boy?"

 ** _Of course he'd immediately go for the throat of the subject; couldn't really have expected anything less from the Batman's protégé. Sometimes I wonder if the Boy Wonder actually has more tact than Beast Boy; of course, he does, but that's mostly because Beast Boy manages to spoil anything even remotely sensitive with some sort of childish joke. Most of the time, at least._**

"I missed morning meditation, I'm not jumpy, I don't trust him, and the second verse is the same as the first," Raven replied dully, the lies coming easily. "There's nothing else to say."

"Hold up. You still don't trust the policeman?" Robin asked, an eyebrow cocked questioningly. "And I know you're not telling me everything. Come on, Raven; if we don't know about what's wrong, we can't help fix it."

 ** _Really should've expected this from Batman's protégé_** , Raven thought for a moment, even as she fought off the urge to unshoulder the nauseating horror of knowing when the world's end would arrive upon at least _one_ of her friends. **_But it won't end with just one, will it? And in the end, rather than ignorant bliss, I'll have made their last few weeks, months, all the more painful. And for what? A bit of personal relief?_**

"Yes. I don't trust the policeman. His emotions . . . there's something weird with his sense of Anger. And Fear. It's almost like something is missing, or cut off," Raven replied, her monotone slipping slightly in her curtness. "And as for Beast Boy," she said slowly, her brain scrambling for something to latch onto that was true _enough_ to make Robin stop asking questions, "He reminded me of some of the Monks in Azarath trying Astral Projection. When he was asleep."

Robin's eyebrow merely rose another quarter of an inch in response, the question so obvious that it didn't even need airing.

"And yes, some of the Monks had . . . snot-bubbles when they were meditating," Raven added, sighing, feeling something that felt closer to defeat than anything else.

"Didn't expect _that_. And you're sure you're being completely impartial with the cop?" Robin asked good-naturedly, only to hold up his open hands in a pacifying gesture when Raven felt her face twitch angrily. After a moment, he added, "I'll do a bit of a more in-depth background check when we get back to the Tower. I'm not going to argue if you're saying something is off. Just. . . look, if something's wrong, don't forget that we've got your back, okay?"

"I know," she said, softly.

 ** _Why can't you all do what everyone else did and just see me as a lost cause? . . . I'm pretty sure I just shuffled a few dozen fish off the mortal coil. Note to self, the water isn't a safe place to vent._**

* * *

A/N: Here's a bit of personal information; not much of a fan of sustained Angst. The problem? I couldn't really write pre-Trigon's-defeat Raven without it, if I'm going to be honest. I mean, the empathic, apocalypse bringing, demon-for-a-father bit _aside_ , she's just a bit more likely to brood than most of the other Titans.


	5. Third Meeting, The Return Trip

**Who the hell gave Officer Oswick permission to go to B7? Key-card shouldn't have worked otherwise. Nobody but Lieutenants and higher are supposed to go to those sections of Evidence. There's too much arcane shit there. Too many magical books. Wrapped in chains of iron and silver to futilely try and bleed away the excess. Supernatural doesn't like being stuck in one place for long. Or being unread. Probably the reason why so many 'Unnatural Tech' villains are able to pop up all over the place here. Bits of paranormal leak into the cobbled technology. Create something that shatters the laws of reality. Damn it. At least most of the magic is trapped underneath seven stories of concrete and earth. And you can't burn it all to the ground. The flames took on a malevolent sentience last time I . . . last time** ** _we_** **tried. That was a hellish experience. Magic. Pretty sure we've got a small mountain of books on it. Can't even train a decent cadre of Coppers on the usage of it. Corrupting influence. Or something. Damned magic.**

More than one detective had glanced in his direction warily when the Inspector's feet started to tap impatiently; there had been more than a couple of incidents with what some of the more knowledgeable detectives had called the _De Røde Sko_ , and nobody was much in the mood to try and rip a pair of animate shoes off another man.

 **How long does it take to stab a person with a syringe? Seriously? Hurry up. Does he bleed green? Wait. Would that even make sense? Flesh color due to mutated melanin? But hair color? Protein change? Huh. Eh. Probably bleeds red. Probably still has hemoglobin with iron. Can't really stop the blood from rusting. Or can you? Don't crabs bleed blue? Or green? Wait. Why the hell does it even matter? Extract the blood and be done. I can ask Doc later. Huh. Sounds vampiric as all hell. Jeez. Enforced ignorance might be better. Still. Weird. Hmm? Footsteps? Probably. Rise. Work finished. Already delegated. Thankfully. Wait.**

"Where's the kid, Doc?" the Inspector asked, wearily. "I'm pretty certain the diagnosis didn't require immediate euthanasia."

 **Looks dodgy. Why? Hand him off to someone else? Probably not. Doc knows better. Legal repercussions alone would be absurd. Why's he looking down? Huh? Green insect? Holy hell. Well then. Insects also count as animals. Go figure. And here you are. Damn. Watching a transformation was more disturbing than I thought. Errgh.**

"'Youth in Asia?' I mean, I'm pretty sure that people have kids there, but what does that have to do with me?" Beast Boy asked innocently, even as Doc pinched his brow and the Inspector slowly massaged his forehead with the palm of his hand. Oh, yes, it was going to be a long day indeed.

 **If the werebeast isn't under firm control? Probably more than you realize, Green. Politicians are dubious. Particularly when they can't control something. Jump's are just a microcosm of something. Something big. Be thankful Sheriff isn't here. Oh? Where's the band-aid? Oh. Green Bandage. Figures. Now. Hmm?**

"Testing, on someone who _doesn't_ break scientific laws, normally takes a few days at least. Most of our stuff is supposed to find narcotics, Grant, not find out if someone's been on the pill," Doc replied, crass in his crossness. "Add in the fact that I'm pretty sure his blood changes on a whim, and you're looking at weeks, at least. I'm pretty sure we should be looking for a governmental contractor or something, not di-. . . _messing_ around with our normal stuff."

 **Doc. We're PD. Of course we're not going to get shiny tech. It's not a day wearing the Badge if we're not undersupplied and overworked. Should've gone to one of those cushy jobs if you didn't want to get your hands dirty. Or perhaps not. Can't avoid grime regardless of where you go. Only decide where the murk lands. Your hands or your soul. Figures.**

"But are you done for the moment?" the Inspector asked, shooting a concerned glance at Beast Boy before realizing that the comment about 'the pill' had gone over the teen's head. "I mean, you've done the extraction, right? And, uh, there's nothing else for us to do?"

 **Errgh. Looks like I just told him to eat a lemon. Jeez. Crisis on infinite salt. Sorry Doc. Probably best if we get the teen out of the station. Now-ish. Before anyone can claim we're discriminating. However right that claim may be.**

"We're done," Doc replied as his eyes narrowed in irritation, before adding, "With what can be done in a day, at least. Can I go now?"

 **Yep. Doc's pissed. Note to self. Deserves a token of appreciation. Maybe some donuts? Or cake? Hmm. Focus. Perhaps later. Nod. Quick gait. Faster than when he walked over. Yes. Irritation. Green looks bored. Well. The hard part was over. Now just have to get home. Keys? Yes. Phone and wallet? Yep. Hah.** **Don't mess up now and the day is done.**

"So,is your blood green?" the Inspector asked Beast Boy as they both walked towards the parking lot, before his eye twitched painfully, as if to punish his runaway mouth with some form of reparation.

 **Why did I ask that?**

"No. Why would it be, dude?" Beast Boy replied after a pregnant pause.

 **We can still dig our way out of this-**

"I don't know. Chlorophyll or something," the Inspector said, his mouth moving far too quickly for his brain to put the brakes on his attempts at small talk. As if on autopilot, he unlocked the car, started the engine, and got inside.

 **Not exactly our most sterling moment there. Is he choking on something? Can't say I'd be surprised. First Grey. Then Oswick. Then insult Green. Then Green chokes to death on something under my ward. Yep. Seems like the natural end result of this day. Uh. Still choking? Uhoh. Uh. Heimlich? Wait. Waving me off. Okay. Don't know if it'd work out anyway. Probably different biology. Green isn't exactly a natural skin color. Except maybe on frogs. Wait. Is he a frog? That's dumb. Maybe amphibian. No. Wait. That's still stupid. Heh. Frogman.**

 **"** Dude! Do I _look_ like a plant? **"** Beast Boy retorted as he got himself situated within the cruiser, before adding, with a resigned groan, "Don't answer that."

 **Huh. Dejected? Common insult? Perhaps. Maybe teasing. Probably from friends. Figures. Maybe something that has to do with grass? Don't know many green trees. Maybe small ones. Can he turn into plants? Probably not. Make** ** _way_** **too much sense if he could. Long silence.** ** _Very_** **long silence. Aren't you the talkative one? Say something. Or just look bummed. Same difference. Okay. Fine. I'll take the initiative. God help us all.**

"So . . ." the Inspector finally said, "You're able to transform into any animal, right? Does that mean you can turn into alien animals and stuff, too?"

 **Truly a font of conversation there.**

"If I know about it, I can change into it," Beast Boy said, the obvious pride about his power leaking into his tone. "Well, you know, as long as it's an animal or something. And sometimes even if I don't really know about it," Beast Boy added after a moment, far less happily, obviously mulling over a particular issue.

 **Probably referring to were-beast thing. Well, that's stuff that we already know about in the reports. Figures. Wonder if other supers are a bit vain about their powers? Probably just a little. Probably the villains more than heroes. Huh. Funny how power just messes with some peoples heads. Strange. Were-beast was probably like Alien-hand syndrome. Or Hollywood's idea of schizophrenia? Something. Multiple personality? Hmm.**

"So, if that's the case, why not just turn into, uh, whatever Superman is, or something like it?" the Inspector asked, rounding a corner a tad sharper than normal. "I mean, he said he's an alien in an interview, right?" he added a moment later, his curiosity peaked; tired brown eyes examined the rear-view mirror to steal a quick glance at his suddenly silent passenger.

 **Holy hell. He just went from Shamrock to Mint. Uh. Why are his hands twitching like that? Shock? Fear? Why? Errm. Unfocused eyes. Thinking of something else? Probably. Something go wrong? Side effect of powers? He's done something like it before. Reaction was too strong to not have. So why the tenseness?**

"Eh, hehe, uh," Beast Boy began, his nervousness so palpable that the air itself seemed to drag down on his lungs, "You know how we have a beach on our west side? On the island?"

 **Hmm?**

"Yeah, what about it?"

 **Throat bobbed. Sheesh. It's probably not that bad. Just don't mention it or lie or something. It's not hard. Kids. Wait. Shit. No lie would be convincing anyway. Not at this point anyway. Well then. Nothing for it but the truth or silence. And you're too talkative for the latter.**

"There, uh, wasn't always one. It, uh, let's, uh, just say that Robin said I wasn't going to play around with my powers unless we _really_ needed something. I, heheh, uh, _breathed_ too deeply. And, yeah, uh, certain forms impart certain. . . thoughts on my mind, right? So . . . yeah. Probably not a good idea to play around with stuff unless I'm able to control it."

 ** _Breathing_** **heavily turned rock to sand? What in the world. . . Wait.**

"'Certain thoughts'? Are you saying the were-beast form, animal, _thing_ . . . it _talks_ to you?" It was a good thing the light was red; otherwise, the Inspector's slamming of the brakes would've surely caused an accident.

 **I knew it! I fucking knew it! Suppressants aren't enough? Damn straight you look nervous, Green! You little twit! Well. Time to turn the car around. Wait. Shit. If they knew . . . Damn it. Euthanasia. Probably. Errgh. Well. It's not a problem if it's never an issue. Right? As long as he doesn't turn into it and wig out. Uh. Shit. There's no way this works out. Fuck. What's the right thing? If I turn this around? Sedation. Lethargy on his part. No longer a functional hero. Increased risk of demise in battle. Little risk from were-beast. Possibly death for him. If I don't? Continues heroism. Potential risk from were-beast. Hmm. God damn it. This is going to be hard to explain. Kids. To hell with it.**

"I'm not paid enough to deal with this shit," the Inspector grumbled, as he continued driving towards the Tower.


	6. The Incendiary Encounter

"I hate to say it like this, but how the hell did you get my phone number?" the Inspector asked, his voice nearly chilly enough to kill the flames that raged on in the distance; condemned or otherwise, the blazing buildings were still a hazard. "And why in the world did you think contacting me would be a first priority? Shouldn't you have, perhaps, contacted the police? Like a good citizen should?" the Inspector only pausing in his diatribe long enough to study the masked figure across from him.

 **Superheroes. What the hell? I already dropped his teammate yesterday. And there was no coffee involved. Was still tempted. Still. So? What is it? Stupid mask. Makes reading emotions harder. Suppose that's the point. Well. That and secret identities. Is it about the recent fires? Figured it was from some villain. Or something. Well? Is he delaying? Why? Errgh. Why all this inanity?**

"We," Robin said professionally, "did a bit of digging. Just safety precautions, you understand? And, right now, I have a few questions I want you to answer. If you've got time."

 **Of course I've got time. You dragged me from my job. Not that there was much more to do. Condemned buildings being burnt isn't my domain. Greg's pissed though. Do I have time? The pretentiousness. Errgh. Give kids power over adults and this happens. Damn it. Calm. Perhaps he's not being a little bastard. Perhaps. Seems focused on my hands. Wait. Why?**

"I can make time," the Inspector drawled, weaving his fingers together, reversing his hands so that his palms were facing away from himself, and stretching: a gruesome crunching and popping noise filled the air, even as his weathered hands slipped apart with a final, organic, crack.

 **Yep. Focused on my hands. Looked ready to leap away during that entire display. Distrust. Hmm. Why? This is going to suck. Go figure that Batman's apprentice should bother with . . . wait. Past? Why the hell did they go into my past? There's nothing worth noting except . . . Oh. Oh no. No. Not now. Not here. Please.**

"First, I would like to ask about a 'Fredrick Burns'; the report that was filed seemed to indicate he was a fatality, one of the first magically related ones in Jump? Report indicates that you and the current Commissioner, at that time, Officer Cedar, were working on that . . . case."

 **Oh. Well. That one. Old Freddy Burns. Hah. Name was fitting. Asshole. Hope he's** ** _still_** **cooking in whatever afterlife was willing to claim him. No! No. Don't think like that. Calm. Besides. Wasn't much of a case. More like an arson. Good thing I was a smoker at the time. Well. The can of deodorant was probably chiefly responsible. Still. Hmm.**

"I'm afraid I don't really recall that name," the Inspector said, mildly, his smile growing glassy as he internally pondered the case in question. "Are you referring to the Candleman? That was one of the first magical incidents I personally experienced."

 **Stab-proof vest was useful. Still. Quarter of an inch got through. Box-cutters hurt.**

"Candleman?" Robin said, before glancing at his communicator briefly. A moment paused before there was a curt nod of realization, before he replied, "Yes. It says here that there was a 'Candleman' in this particular case. Would you mind recounting to me what, exactly, happened?"

 **Figures. Wants to figure out how I tick. If there's a screw loose or something? Perhaps. Hah. Still. Story time.**

"It was bog standard stuff; we think that Candleman was just some sort of artifact that parasitized Fredrick Burn's mind, or something like that. Long story short, Fredrick Burns' parole officer had disappeared a few days prior-"

 **Delightful. Already a question. Where is this going?**

"Would you mind recounting why Burns had a parole officer?"

 **Because he was an asshole who beat his wife and kids. And that was** ** _before_** **he found the time to fall in with the wrong crowd. Well. A** ** _worse_** **crowd.**

"He was convicted on charges of domestic abuse," the Inspector replied, mildly. "That said, we're almost certain he was being, uh, _parasitized_ during his stay at prison; there was a time period in which his behavior, outwardly, improved."

 **Parasitized. 'His mind was hijacked'. That's what they said. Doubtable. Even if that excuse stopped me from losing my job before it even really started. Guy was a shit from beginning to end. Hmm. Still. Good thing** ** _we_** **found him. Could've been Justin. Errgh. Hmm? Seems to be looking at something. Wonder what? Checking story? Perhaps.**

"Anyway, long story short, we, uh, ended up visiting his apartment to see if we could find out if he knew where his Parole officer had gone; we weren't all that prepared, since we had about five or so folks who had seen the man leave the place, so we were _certain_ that Freddy hadn't done anything. Otherwise, we would've come with some back up," Inspector Grant said, pausing for a moment when he mistakenly believed Robin was about to interject with a question.

 **He answered the door politely. Let me in first. Then rammed a box-cutter into my belly. Knife-proof vest. Heh. Still. Shocked. Then saw the room's interior. Well. We found the Parole Officer. At least his viscera. Painted on the walls in symbols. Freddy wasn't looking too good either. Skin looked gummy. Waxen. Took a clip of rounds to the chest before we realized he** ** _was_** **wax. Had done something magic. Basically bound his soul into a candle or something. Seemed like a raw deal.**

"And then?" Robin prompted; he seemed to already be aware of this story, or at least the parts that had been released to the public, but was continuing down this topic for reasons that eluded the Inspector.

 **He attacked Mick. Dumb idea. Mick was built like a brick shithouse. They ended up grappling for a few seconds. Next few moments were a blur. Deep Voice. Found an aerosol canister in one hand and a lighter in the other. Melted him down to nothing. Nearly took the entire room with him. Still. Got out alive. Found out later that Burns some brief magical training while in prison. Had to reorganized how we treated magicians and the general population after that. Still. Was outside my jurisdiction. Especially then.**

"We took him down when he attacked us."

 **I lit** ** _both_** **ends of that bastard's wick.**

"Huh," Robin said, as if noting something down in his mind. "That seems to be pretty much everything."

 **That's it? Huh. Figures.**

"So," the Inspector replied after a moment, "why'd you want me to talk about that story?"

 **Besides unsettling me.**

"When we see things like mind-wipes in someone's dossier, it's . . . normally cause for alarm. Particularly when it comes to mental issues," Robin said, effectively zero emotion reflected upon his voice. "I think . . . perhaps . . . _everyone_ on the team might be a bit more relaxed if I verified that you were of sound mind." He quietly took a sip of water before adding, "This just let me check and verify what you said _then_ with what you said _now_ ; I'm inclined to believe the treatment was successful."

 **Wait. What?!**

"You've undergone numerous, selective yet subsequent mind-wipes," Robin clarified, before going on with, "In addition to that, in at least two of your ribs, there are some sorts of tracking devices, both of which are no longer active. I'm told by . . . sources . . . that was standard procedure for those undergoing mind-wipes, back when Heroes and Police were still trying to unite their efforts. "

 **Eyes hurt. Blink? Blink. Calm? Strangely so. Wonder why? Huh. Probably hit me later.**

"Well," the Inspector said calmly, blinking lazily as he seemed to ponder what was just said.

 **Everything I thought was a lie! Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! What the hell?! Why did someone cram a tracker into my ribs?! Why did my mind get wiped?! No no no no. Calm. Fuck! What got wiped? Shit! Calm down! Calm! Calm. Breathe. In. Out. All will be well. Don't let the Deep Voice dictate. Now is not the time. Safe. Calm. Peace. Besides. He could be lying.**

"Huh," Robin finally said after a moment, seeming to relax. "Honestly, I expected a lot of shouting and screaming; not many people accept that sort of info so easily," he continued, before opening up a folder he had brought with him and displaying a variety of x-rays that revealed a twisted lump of metal that had been fashioned into a rib, a display of one such rib, and the various electronic components that composed it and the hidden tracker within.

 **Oh shit oh no oh god oh why oh jeez.**

"Not much of the panicking type, I suppose," the Inspector replied blandly, even as he carefully felt around his ribs as he stared at the picture.

 **Yup yup oh shit oh no. This isn't good. This isn't good at all. What the hell is this shit?**

"I can see that," Robin said, though whether he intended his comment to be facetious or not was obfuscated by his mask. "But, yes. Evidently, you and the ten other officers present at the time of the . . . issue that needed to be wiped. . . were among the first test groups to see if mind-wipes could be used in psychological treatment. And they were resounding successes to the last, apparently, even learning in your case that said mind-wipes could be used to target selective memories."

 **Ten others? Successful? Issue? Why the hell is this little kid talking in gibberish?**

"So," the Inspector grunted after a moment, "What, exactly, does this have to do whatever you wanted to talk about?"

 **Breathe! Breathe. All is well. Calm. Peace. Aggghhhhhh! Hahh.**

"We needed to verify you were still fundamentally the same person you were _prior_ to . . . yeah," Robin said after a moment, clearly having uncomfortable memories of his own. "Not everyone goes from broken to . . . not. Even if they were once good guys." He spent a few moments simply glaring down at the stony sidewalk, only glancing back at the Inspector when the older man withdrew a pocket-watch and a fist full of change.

 **You've got a green boy who has a split-personality with a were-beast thing. Some grey girl who may or may not be married if that Bindi is any indication. Also is an empathetic magician. Occasionally shape-shifts into a monster. A blue cyborg with what seems like an unhealthy obsession with meat and metal. Plus a literal ambassador from another planet living under your roof. And you. Everyone and their mother knows you were trained by Batman. Please. I'm now curious. What the hell do you kids consider a** ** _healthy psyche_** **? And how would they think to ask? Besides invading my personal space. Wait. Oh. Hah. Well. That makes things clearer.**

"Huh. So, Grey, uh, The Raven girl . . . is she why I'm here today?" the Inspector asked after a moment, noting the time with a grimace.

 **Looks a touch confused. Guess wrong? Probably not. Wait. Lilt of head? I was right? This would be easier without the mask. Probably why they wear them. Huh. Figures.**

"Why . . . what makes you think that?" Robin said, slowly, as if considering a number of possibilities. The irritation was already beginning to show in his body language, despite attempts to control it.

 **He already knows the answer. Gods. Well. This might be troublesome. Eh. Probably. Heroes. Bah. Kids. Control issues? No. Just miffed.**

"The green kid told me about her powers," the Inspector said, almost cheerfully.

 **Almost looks like he choked on his tongue. Sheesh.**

* * *

A/N: Is the reader-tracking thing broken? Or does it only track 'first visits only'? Because, as it is now, it appears as if nobody has read this for the last week.


	7. Fourth Meeting

"You know, I would've thought you'd adapt to this by now," the Inspector grumbled to the drowsy Beast Boy as he entered the vehicle. The Inspector's nose wrinkled in disgust when it first detected the pungent odor Beast Boy had brought into the cruiser with him; the irritation swiftly spread to the rest of his face when the Inspector finally identified the likeliest cause of the smell the green teen had hanging around him like a cloud of death. A moment passed in silent judgement before the Inspector finally asked, in little more than a grunt, "Don't tell me you've given _smoking_ a try, kiddo."

 **That's a hell of a way to get this little trip started. And you'd have to do a lot more than just smoke to produce a stench like that. Gods. What the hell have your** ** _wrought?_**

"Nah, dude," Beast Boy muttered, rubbing bloodshot eyes and yawning. "Lotsa burning buildings n' stuff filled with garbage. Ending up crashing afterwards and forgot to take a shower; is it really that bad?"

 **It smells as if a million nostrils cried out in terror and were silenced. If that had an odor. Plus old socks and a number of other things. I'm pretty sure you qualify as a health hazard right now, Green.**

"Not re-. . . yes. Yes, actually. It really _is_ that bad," the Inspector finally managed, clearly torn between trying to be kind and trying to be honest. "Take a shower before my sense of smell does the sensible thing and _dies_. Please. I'll wait. Go. Now."

 **Sweet merciful gods above. The residual odor alone is gag worthy. Gods. I hope you were exaggerating when you complained about my breath, Mick. Heh. Bet you were happy when I couldn't smoke anymore. Still. Probably wasn't this bad. Disproportionate Karma. Go figure.**

Almost as if driven by some sort of subconscious motivation, the Inspector tiredly traced along the thin scars on his right hand, passing the time as if the network of marks were some sort of morbid Etch-A-Sketch; first, from the random mess of healed tissue, he managed to make a lopsided dog, followed shortly by a particularly ugly smiley-face, and so on, massaging the various splinters from out the skin cheerlessly. The only space that was off limits, it seemed, was the slightly pinkish blob of twisted flesh that was affixed near the center of his palm, and from which all other scars seemed to originate as if they were cracks in a pane of glass; whether by accident or design, the lump of discolored skin was skipped over with little ceremony.

 **Huh. Wonder if Green told Multicolor about his slip up in the car. Should've asked that. Oh well.**

So engrossed was the Inspector that he actually didn't notice the first knock, and only barely noted the second before the third finally compelled him to open the backseat for his now significantly cleaner companion.

 **Amazing what some warm water and rendered fat with lye can do for a person. Wait. Breathe deeply. Huh? Scent? What the hell? Is that-**

"Jasmine?" the Inspector asked, almost incredulously as he finally identified the distinctly feminine scent to whatever soap Beast Boy had used. "Not going to lie here; I never took you for the floral type, kid."

 **Isn't it supposed to have a pacifying effect? Huh. What'd that article say? 'Calming as Valium'? Bah. Still. Wait. Why the sudden discomfort, Green? Hm? Red circle on communicator? And now you're hiding it in your pocket? Huh. Strange.**

"Hey, Jasmine is used in some guy shampoos, dude!" Beast Boy cried in protest, shrinking down in his seat as the Inspector raised an eyebrow in response. After an uncomfortably long minute, Beast Boy finally muttered, in a defeated tone, "I sorta borrowed some shampoo from one of my teammates. Except, eheh, she, uh, doesn't know that I ended up borrowing it, you know?"

 **Mhmm? Don't really care one way or another. Unless you've committed some sort of atrocity in doing so.**

"Look, enough about my bathing habits," Beast Boy said, tiredly, as if he had been forced to utter that particular phrase on a semi-regular basis. "Listen, uh, Robin mentioned that police cars have recorders and stuff in them; am I, uh, you know, during the last ride, I sorta mentioned . . . yeah. . ." he trailed off, awkwardly.

 **Oh. Hah. Multicolor has it more together than I originally thought. Figures. Hmm. How to code this back?**

"That little spiel about your . . . _roommate_? _That_ one? Yeah, well, uh, some _complete_ _bastard_ took a baseball bat to the old recorders in this thing; destroyed the tapes and everything. Got new ones installed, of course, but, yeah," Inspector Grant murmured, even as Green's face split into a relieved grin. Then, in a far more humored tone, the Inspector added, "That deep and unrelenting love you have for, uh, that person? Yeah, no, never getting out. Wait . . . oh, whoops. My bad, Green."

 **Hah. Wait. Turning yellowish? Huh. Oh! Red and Green are a sort of yellow tinge. Makes sense. This is just a slap on the wrist. Oh? Realization? Hmm. Oho. He understands why I did that? Still. Why'd he get embarrassed? Hmm.**

"Duudddde," Beast Boy groaned, even as he grinned cheerfully. "Oh! I was curious about something."

 **Well then. We're basically in a hermetically sealed box for the moment. Shoot the question.**

"I saw a lot of policemen at the fires yesterday, when it started to spread from the original condemned buildings. So, uh, I would've thought you were there, since I noticed a couple of people from the station," Beast Boy said, without even pausing for the Inspector to say anything.

 **Oh. That. Hah.**

"I'm not supposed to be working around open fires anymore," Inspector Grant said, a small grimace stretching across his face. "If it wasn't for that, though, you'd have probably seen me there; ever since superheroes started coming out of the woodwork, the police structure was sorta shot to shit. As it is, though, I'm just a glorified chauffer with a lot of paperwork, at least for the moment," the Inspector grunting the final sentence with more than a little ire.

 **This is what it means to be reassigned to Antarctica. Police just enforce the law. Moral action can still be punished in that regard. Still an Inspector. Can't take that away. Not easily at least. Thank god for delegation. Couldn't get anything done otherwise.**

"Why aren't you allowed to work around open fires anymore?" Beast Boy asked, only to draw back and add, with a suspiciously sympathetic tone, "You didn't play with matches as well, did you?"

 **And** ** _now_** **I realize I'm in a car with a pyromaniac. Or maybe just a bit of a dope. Do I** ** _look_** **like I would play with matches? Don't answer that.**

"Nah, my lighter decided to detonate in my hand one day, back when I was Lieutenant for the first time; stupid thing was gunked up with wax or something."

 **Well. That was the reason for a time. Then there was the incident where those old fashioned lanterns nearly turned into firebombs when Mick and I were hunting that Effluvial Shadow some mage had summoned. Then the sentient flames on Basement seven. And then there was that weird fire spire that tried to grab me. And then . . . eh. Too many to list. Fire just doesn't work out that well for me anymore.**

"Oh. Yeesh," Beast Boy muttered. A minute passed in utter silence before the Inspector skimmed the rearview mirror and found the green teenager in deep thought.

 **Oh gods. I think I know exactly what he's trying to do. Eventually. If he ever actually says anything. Hello? Huh.**

"I can't think of any fire jokes that won't spark an argument," Beast Boy finally said, seemingly shamefaced. The Inspector spared another momentary glance at the Titan before finally shrugging with a grimace.

 **How is someone that lacking in self-awareness? He just made a . . . surely he must know? No. He doesn't. How do you** ** _live_** **from day to day? And** ** _you're_** **one of the city's protectors.** ** _How_** **?**

"Yeah, me either," the Inspector replied, sighing for a moment as he carefully rounded a corner. An uncomfortable silence filled the air, as the Inspector cheerlessly contemplated the role he had played in the cosmic farce that was his own life and Beast Boy found himself bored but uncertain of how to introduce a new topic.

 **Bumps in the road. Hah. More than in the literal ones. Figures. Wonder if this existential angst is normal? Probably. Still. Got a roof over my head and decent food. Life just sucks sometimes. Suppose that's all that can really be said about it. Hmm.**

"One of my friends recently had a birthday," Beast Boy finally said, his tone seeming to be more of a question than a statement of fact. "It, uh, didn't go that well at first, but, you know. . . I think it went well, all in all."

 **And then there's this shit. Look. You help make sure the Bad Days don't start up again. But you're a kid. Think about the situation this places me in. The situation it puts the police. We're being protected** ** _by_** **the age-range** ** _we're_** **supposed to protect. The irony stings like a coward's brand.**

"Oho? Really? Well, I'm glad it went well in the end. What happened, though? Was there a problem with the cake or something?" the Inspector asked, a smile wrinkling the skin around his eyes; for the moment, at least, it felt genuine.

 **And now he suddenly looks like he stepped in something nasty. Great.**

"We got attacked by a supervillain and she ended up freezing time," Beast Boy replied, grimly.

 **Well. That's. . . something else, that's for certain. How long can you move within the frozen time? No. That's in terrible tastes. Urgh. And we actually thought the old proto-suits could take the place of these types of people? Gods above. Pretty hard to fight when you're fighting against a** ** _Chrono_** **-** ** _mancer,_** **of all things. What sane god would give children that sort of power? Well. That presupposes a sane greater power. Figures.**

"The whole super-powers thing kinda leaves me in a position where I can't comment, kiddo," the Inspector murmured with a cheerless chuckle, before calmly pulling into the parking space and adding, "We're here, though, so I don't really _need_ to."

 **Open the door. Breathe deeply. Exit. Open back door. Freezing time?** ** _Seriously_** **? How the hell would you even fight that? Hmm. Another logical puzzle for another day. Oho? Green's leading** ** _me_** **to the labs. Quick learner. Up the elevator. Hmm? Doc looks just as upset as always. Guess he doesn't have a sweet tooth. Or he holds minor grudges forever. Figures. And away they go.**

It was with a groan that Inspector Grant stumbled over to his desk to retrieve and potentially resolve any new paperwork that had appeared overnight; it was with a grimace that Grant noted a pulpy magazine on his desk, one that was open to the 'Gossip' sections as he so cheerfully dubbed it; it was with a growing growl that he finally read the text, and nearly tore the glossy paper to shreds.

 **'TROUBLE IN TITANS TOWER?' Calm down. Perhaps it's not what you think it is. Except it absolutely is. And there are even mined quotes. Wait. How the hell did they get quotes? I remember some of this shit. It was about coffee. How did they get that information? And they omitted mentions of coffee. Probably to make things seem worse than they are. Nameless informant? Figures. Couldn't be that easy. Wait.** ** _Madam_** ** _Agrippa_** **?**

A minute passed in utter silence as the Inspector stood, stock still; only the slightest pulse of a vein in his forehead and the trembling of his hands betrayed his emotional state. It wasn't to last, however, as his face started taking on a remarkably maroon color; slowly, with a sort of calm that could only be forged in the flames of righteous fury, the Inspector muttered, "That brother fucker."


End file.
